


A Game of Chess

by Charlie572



Category: Supernatural
Genre: And Sam really isn't that into it, Cas is super into learning chess, Dean can play chess, Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, He learned in grade school, I will aggressively spell it "Cas", I'm actually kinda proud of this one but if you've got feedback send it in, IT'S SO FLUFFY, It's a game of chess, M/M, but Cas doesn't know how, but now he has time and he is gonna play a ton of chess, help me write better stuff, like he really really wants to learn, never had time to really practice, so Dean just has to teach Cas a board game, tear me apart in the comments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-10 22:05:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11700798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charlie572/pseuds/Charlie572
Summary: Cas, the Bunker's resident master of strategy, has never played chess. Dean resolves to fix this.





	A Game of Chess

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! Thanks so much for reading! I'm always looking to improve my writing, so if you've got any thoughts, put 'em in the comments section!

It’s mid-autumn when Dean finds out Cas has never played chess.

Castiel, who’s seen the rise and fall of every empire that’s ever been. Castiel, the walking encyclopedia of random facts (it says here on the label that this is blackberry jam, but these pictures are clearly of mulberries. It’s just—I would expect more honesty from someone entrusted with the making of vittles.). Castiel, who still talks about watching the formation of the earth and the ignition of the sun (he thought the moon was more impressive, really. I mean, bathing a dust cloud in light is beautiful, but the moon…there’s just something endearing about an oddly-shaped rock forming a permanent union with the larger rock it happened to bump into.) Ancient as he is, he has never played a single game of chess. With his military experience and the intelligence Dean knows he keeps hidden far from view, Cas should be great at chess. It’s a shame he’s never even seen a game.

So Dean teaches him.

And Cas hates it.

He forgets the rules, mixes up the pieces, and it takes them the better part of an afternoon just to get through their first game. But that’s the better part of an afternoon sitting across from Dean, the man's shoulders loose and his eyes smiling. An hour and a half they spend almost forgetting about ghosts and demons and scars and the end of the world.

Also, the chess table in their bunker is small, and if Dean’s knees keep brushing into his, Cas doesn’t say anything.

And then Dean doesn’t understand why Cas wants to play so badly. It had started out as a pastime. Dean wasn’t a serious player, wasn’t very good himself. But Cas stares down the chess board with an intensity that sends shivers down Dean's spine. He is determined to learn this game. He and Dean are playing every spare moment they get. Dean humors the angel. When they’re playing chess, he gets away with brushing the occasional foot or knuckle. Cas loses every game, even if Dean is tired or…distracted.

But he never gives up. His analytical mind races with every losing move he makes, and for the first dozen games, that’s all he does. Lucky number thirteen…

He’s been staring holes into the board for almost half an hour, head down, eyes smoldering. Dean’s been watching him, forgetting what time it is, what country he’s in, where he’s putting his hands.

Cas’s hand sweeps over the board, dexterous fingers scooping up the last piece he needs to win his first game. His other hand tenses, clamping down on the fingers he didn’t realize he was holding. For a moment, they’re both surprised. The flash of triumph still burns in Castiel’s eyes as he calls his win.

“Checkmate.” It’s almost a whisper. His left thumb glides—deliberately—over Dean’s index finger, and in that moment Dean realizes he will never win another game.


End file.
